Heather
by DEFiiANCE
Summary: A character study, based around the funeral of Heather and those who attended.


_Written to explore our favourite medics' feelings after Heather's funeral :( This is my first Casualty fic + I hope I did it justice!_

**

* * *

**

Heather

Adam

Her mother came to speak to me after the service. I was heading over to see May and Yuki who I'd spotted sulking around the church yard gate when she swiftly intercepted me.

She was short, slim, blond hair like Heather and had a look about her – something proud, but something broken.

She didn't bother with introductions. She didn't need to because we'd all seen her break down at the podium when she read her epitaph. Trailing behind were her father and her fiancé. Ex-fiancé, ex-father, I suppose.

Asked if I was the doctor who was with Heather when _it _happened. When I said yes, her fiancé started forward; this anger overtaking his face and I almost welcomed him punching me because at least then I could have fought back. But her father stepped in, as Jessica (still stood clutching my hand tightly) and her mother gasped simultaneously. Fiancé safely escorted away, her mother turned to me again. Dread. I was right to. She wanted to know what had happened.

How could I tell her the truth? How could I tell her that her daughter died screaming for her mother? That she was so terrified?

I lied. Said she died doing her job, that she wouldn't have known anything.

Half of the truth; she wouldn't have felt anything but she looked up at me with eyes full of tears, terror and panic. She knew it was going to come down. Just for a few seconds she knew she was going to die.

I didn't know what to say when the tears started leaking out of her eyes. Jessica did, like she always does; she let go of me with a squeeze of my hand and took Heather's mother into her arms, comforting her.

That's me – Adam Truman, senior consultant, supposed protector of patients and staff alike.

But I was just so _helpless._

-----

Jessica

I can't begin to imagine what her poor mother is going through. Neither do I want to. When I think of Lucas and how petrified I was when ... it must be a nightmare. Worse even, because you can't up.

She couldn't get another word out after Adam had finished speaking, simply stood, her anguished face being wet by the tears that fell.

Not that Adam was much help.

He did what he could with the story, granted. Told her mother that she wouldn't have felt anything, that it would have been quick. But being told, even in such vague details, how her daughter died was never going to be a picnic and it wasn't.

I went to comfort the poor woman until her husband returned and led her away.

Whilst all the while Adam remained exactly where he was. Blank. Helpless.

I went along to give him support because I thought he might need it. Might want someone to talk because he hasn't talked about it and he really should. I'm a nurse, not a counsellor but even I can see that.

But he didn't say a word in the car back home.

I'm trying to understand what he's feeling. But it feels like he's slipping away.

-----

May

I got up early.

Yuki and I caught the bus there because it wasn't in Holby; it this small village about twenty miles out of town, full of posh houses, the sort with huge wrought-iron gates with intercoms answered by a butler. It was odd. I'd never seen Heather as a 'country girl'.

Spoilt? Sure. Daddy's little princess? Definitely. Horse mucker outer? Not in a million years.

Maybe she just got away as fast as she could.

I don't know.

I didn't know.

None of us actually knew her. I knew she had a fiancé (and he was there, strong and silent at the front of the church) because of the ring on her finger, not because she told me.

But I still made judgements.

I still called her a "cow". Even though, listening as her mother breaks down when she talks about how wonderful Heather was, how kind a daughter she was, how loving a person, it sounds like she was the complete opposite.

That's on my conscience and I've got to live with that.

-----

Yuki

I only went because she wanted someone to go with. I know she's out of my league. I'm not stupid. But I can still stand by her.

Even though I hate funerals. And I didn't even know Heather.

It should be my funeral. I got that answer right.

Hyperthermia, hyperthelemia ...

-----

Lenny

We sat at the back of church, like some sort of trespassers.

Which we were.

I feel sorry that girl. All those years wasted.

But then, I didn't know her.

I bet her body was all mangled though. Crushed by a burning lift! What a way to go! Not that we could see the body because there was a nice big wooden (oaken, maplen?) coffin that hid her. Spoilsports.

Truth be told, the real reason I wanted to go was just to go.

Never been a funeral.

It was ... nice. I suppose.

Rubbish music though.

* * *

_I tweaked this (particularly Lenny's part) after Saturday night - a very revealing episode concerning our three F2s, don't you think?_

_A review really does make my day :)_


End file.
